


Risk It All

by lou_beatrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pansexual Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, Trans Character, also zourrie and sophiam are QPRs btw, altho plenty of everyone else, and by pan/bisexual i also mean pan/biromantic but there aren't Official Tags for that, bc representation is v important :), everyone and everything is Very Gay tbh, everyone is trans/nonbinary and/or ace/aro basically, it's kinda liam-centric ??, sex mentions in certain chapters but i'll add trigger warnings at the beginnings of those chapters!!, yes the title is a stucky reference fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6978160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lou_beatrix/pseuds/lou_beatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Liam comes out as trans to his parents, he receives a very confusing letter about being accepted to some sort of magic school. By his fifth year at Hogwarts, he's gotten what he wanted when he left home--he's Liam, and no one even knows he wasn't always that way. When he catches the eye of ridiculously popular and beautiful (and pureblood) Zayn Malik, things get a little tricky. Liam had thought he'd been perfectly content to just have one close friend, Sophia Smith, but when he meets Zayn and his friends--Louis, Harry, and Niall--everything changes.</p><p>**I know that's super vague and sounds like something off the back of a shitty young adult novel but I'm trying not to give major plot points away yikes!! Just know that there's lots of Ziam, Larry, and Nessie, as well as a++ fun and beautiful queerplatonic relationships and not one person in this fic is a cishet rest assured :)**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Liam's entire world gets completely turned around like five times.

            This must be a joke. A very elaborate, ridiculous, and laughably outlandish joke. “We await your owl?” Is that to send a reply? Where the hell is he going to get an owl? What would he do, dictate the message to it and hope for the best? This is almost annoying, the fact that someone wasted their time writing this. The only thing that he keeps coming back to is that they used his real name. Liam. No one calls him that, let alone knows about it, except his parents. And why would they go to all this trouble to pull some stupid prank?  


            “Mum?” he calls out, padding back into the kitchen after fetching the mail, where he’d found the letter. He doesn’t usually go through the mail—who would be sending something to a ten year old?—but today there was one piece that stood out: this peculiar letter. It was made of heavy parchment and had a red seal of what seemed to be an H keeping it closed. There was no stamp. And it was addressed to him.  


            “Yes?” his mum calls as he hears the kettle reach a boil.  


            “I got this letter in the mail, and it’s really peculiar. Did you and dad send this as a joke, or…? No one else knows my name,” he explains, handing her the letter.  


            She takes it from him and examines the envelope before opening it and pulling out the letter which Liam had shoved back inside. He watches in anticipation as her eyes widen and her jaw drops.  


            “Mum?” he asks tentatively.  


            She doesn’t respond, just continues to read the letter, then flips to the other pieces of parchment where her eyes grow ever wider and her mouth falls open even more. Liam is trying to hold onto the idea that his mum’s just a great actor and is pulling this joke along, but he knows for a fact that she is not a good actor. She can barely play charades.  


            “Are you…are you sure this came in the mail? Not one of your friends dropping this in our mailbox?” she asks, worry and confusion and a hint of fear coloring her voice and expression.  


            Liam shakes his head. “Can’t be. It’s addressed to Liam, not Ruth,” he replies, cringing when he says his birth name. “And no one else calls me Liam. Or knows about Liam at all except you and dad. Unless you told someone.”  


            His mum shakes her head. “No, dad and I would never do that without your permission. And we don’t use the name outside of the house, like you told us to do. We would never do that.”  


            “So I don’t get it. Where did this come from? Are you sure dad didn’t do it as a joke?”  


            “Geoff!” she calls loudly. “C’mere!”  


            Liam’s dad stomps down the stairs in slippered feet. “Morning to you, too,” he grumbles. “What’s’matter?”  


            “Did you do this?” Liam asks impatiently, snatching the stack of parchment out of his mum’s hands and handing them to his dad. He takes them from his son, rubbing his eyes, which slowly widen as he reads the words scribed in emerald ink.  


            “What the hell is this?” he exclaims, staring at Liam.  


            “Geoff! Language!” his mum admonishes.  


            “It’s fine, mum,” Liam says timidly. His mum glares at him menacingly, making him cower.  


            “I’m sorry, Karen, but what did you expect me to say after seeing this?” he replies exasperatedly.  


            “So I’m assuming neither of you did this as a joke then?” Liam asks.  


            “Why on God’s green earth would we do that?” his dad answers, dropping the papers on the kitchen table forcefully.  


            “I dunno, dad, but it makes no sense. No one else knows my name, and this is like…” he turns the envelope over in his hands, tracing the wax seal with his fingers, “very elaborate. I dunno, I’m kind of scared. D’you think someone’s like, spying on me?”  


            “I dunno, love,” his mum replies, concern lacing her voice, pulling Liam into her side. “We’ll figure it out, yeah? Don’t worry, I’m sure it will all be fine. Let’s just have some breakfast and forget about it for a bit?” she makes eye contact with her husband and counters his look of objection with her own icy glare, silently telling him not to say a word. Not in front of Liam.  


            Breakfast is quiet, to say the least. Each family member is in their own bubble, privately mulling over the whole letter business. Liam’s more confused than he’s ever been before. Well—that’s not entirely true. He’s had plenty of confusion to deal with, even in his short life. Like that time when he was seven when he’d tried to take his shirt off when they’d gone to the pool, and someone’s mum had yelled at his mum, and then he’d had to put his shirt back on. And that time when he was five when he was forced to be separated from his best friend, Sam, because Sam was a boy and apparently, Liam wasn’t. And the time when he was nine and someone had told him that he was turning into “quite the lovely young lady,” and it had made him cringe and squirm, and he’d ran away to his treehouse and cried for an hour. It wasn’t until Sam stopped hanging out with him, because he said girls are gross, and Liam had said, “I’m not a girl!” and Sam had said, “Yes you are! You don’t have a wiener! You’re a girl.” And Liam had started crying. It wasn’t until that day that Liam had realized that there was something fundamentally different about him. That he wasn’t just scared of growing up (which he was because that would mean his chest would get…big, and lots of other icky things would happen to his body that just felt so wrong to him), or that he was just a tomboy, or something. No, there was something else about him that was very different than all of those things. He just…wasn’t a girl. It was as simple as that, but why did it seem so complicated?  


            When he’d told his parents, he was terrified. He stood on the other side of the room when he told them, scared they’d try to hurt him, that they’d think he was a freak. When he’d said the words out loud for the first time to himself, in the dark of his room in the middle of the night after hours of sleepless tossing and turning, he’d burst into tears. It happened again when he told his parents. His hands shook, his knees threatened to give out under him, and even his eyelids—which he’d snapped shut when he felt the tears pricking behind his eyes—were quivering. And when he said the words: “I’m not a girl. I’m a boy,” he couldn’t stop himself from falling to floor and crying really, really hard. The weight of the words had lifted off him and he felt the change physically—his legs just stopped working and he collapsed to the ground, knees knocking inwards and his lower legs splaying out to the sides as he hunched over himself, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. He didn’t see the tears welling up in his parents’ eyes, nor hear when they’d walked over to him, hand in hand, and crouched down in front of him.  


            “Roo?” his mum had croaked softly, placing a hand on his heaving back. “It’s okay, love. Shh, shh, it’s okay. We love you so, so much.” His father had begun to stroke his hair, adding, “You’re our little boy, and we love you so much. Our sweet, perfect little boy. Never forget that, okay, Roo?”  


            They heard him mutter something into his arm, which he’d propped his head up on.  


            “What was that?” his mum had asked, rubbing circles on his now still back.  


            “Please don’t call me Ruth,” he’d said, a bit louder this time.  


            “Okay, what do you want us to call you?”  


            “Liam,” he’d replied.  


            “That’s a beautiful name, love. It fits you perfectly. Our special Liam. We love you so much.”  


            He was only sniffling into his sleeve now.  


            “Wanna sit up?” his dad had asked. Liam didn’t respond, just lifted his torso a bit and flopped into his mum’s arms, who held him close. He was soon enveloped in both his parents’ arms. “We are so, so proud of you Liam. We love you so much. you are so brave. Our amazing, special little boy. Our perfect Liam,” they kept telling him, sitting there for what could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours.  


            He’d started puberty blockers a few months later. And now, the three of them sit in that same room, the weight of confusion settling between them uncomfortably.  


            They silently agree to do nothing about it. Liam, of course, can’t get it off his mind. When he’s kicking a footie around in the backyard, he’s thinking about the letter. When he’s reading his new comic, he can’t focus. They barely talk at dinner. Liam notices his dad close all the blinds and windows, despite the fact that it’s swelteringly hot. He doesn’t ask questions. He hears his dad mutter, “They might be watching us…”  


            As per usual, Liam’s the first one up the following morning—his dad works long hours at the factory and his mum sometimes takes the night shift at the store. As he’s fixing himself toast and jam, he hears a shuffling of papers outside and assumes the mail’s come. He rushes out to get it, terrified that his parents will wake up and take it away before he can check if there’s another letter. Why would there be, it’s been one day? part of his brain says. But the other part counters saying that there’s something about whoever’s sent the letter that makes him think maybe they know his family wasn’t going to do anything about it. whoever sent it knows a lot about Liam and he doesn’t know how.  


            His heart stops when he sees that there is, in fact, another letter for him, identical to yesterday’s. He opens it with quivering fingers, and pulls out the pieces of parchment. There is another piece of parchment that wasn’t in yesterday’s envelope, as well as a small bronze coin. He picks up the unfamiliar piece first:

            _Dear Mr. Liam Payne,_  


            _We understand that you may be very confused in regards to the letter you received yesterday (another copy is enclosed for your convenience). However, we here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would like to assist you in any way possible. Please write down any and all questions you may have, and we will send you a reply tomorrow. An owl by the name of Eldridge will be at your bedroom window today at 12pm sharp. Please fold up and tie your paper to his ankle, and place the enclosed bronze coin in the pouch on his other leg. Please specify whether you should like Eldridge to deliver our reply letter directly to your window or through the front door._  


            _Best wishes,_  


            _Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_  


            _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  


Oh god, okay. So they do know. Liam was right. The real question is whether or not he tells his parents that he got a second letter. He weighs the pros and cons. If he tells them, they’ll be clued in from the get-go and potentially more willing to look into this…magic school? God, it sounds so weird to him. What the hell is this? What is his life?  


            But what if he tells them and they say no, that he can’t reply back? Then he’ll be stuck here forever. Always known as Ruth. Never getting to truly be himself.  


            That’s it, that’s what pushes him to make the decision. This is about whether his parents really want him to be able to be Liam. After breakfast, he brings it up. He tells them what happened with the second letter, shows it to them, and tries his best to explain that if he stays in Wolverhampton, he can’t ever truly be Liam. Everyone will know that he wasn’t always Liam. He’ll always be Ruth to them. And he doesn’t want to live that way. His parents give in when they see the tears welling in his already puppy-ish eyes. They all draft the letter together, but Liam scribes it.

            _Dear Headmistress McGonagall,_  


            _I have a lot of questions. I’m not sure if this is real or not. Is there any way you can prove to me that this magic school exists and that magic is real? This is very confusing for me. also where is this school? How did you find me? Also my parents want to know if they have to pay for me to go to this school. Also how did you know my name?_  


            _I think those are all my questions for now. Thank you._  


            _Liam Payne_

            Lo and behold, at 12pm on the dot, a large grey speckled own raps on the window to Liam’s bedroom. He tentatively opens it, having never seen an owl in real life before, but somehow trusts that it won’t hurt him. The letter’s already folded and tied securely like a present. As soon as Liam opens the window, Eldridge sticks out his leg, and Liam delicately ties the paper to it. Eldridge shimmies around a bit to thrust his other ankle at Liam, attached to which is a small worn leather pouch. Liam drops the coin into the pouch, and Eldridge immediately flies off without ceremony.  
Liam’s day is aimless, and his night is restless. But the next morning comes, as they always do, and he rushes to the door the second he hears the mail drop through the chute. And there it is, another letter addressed to him.

            _Dear Mr. Liam Payne,_  


            _You will find that this letter will self-destruct when you tell it you are done with it. Be sure to copy down any pertinent information elsewhere. We cannot disclose the exact location of Hogwarts, but it is in Scotland. Students are transported via train from King’s Cross station in London on September 1. Please assure your parents that attendance is free—the only thing we ask you pay for is your books, robes, wand, and class materials, but if this is a hardship, do not hesitate to let us know and we will help you. We would not like anything to stand in the way of you attending Hogwarts._  


            _Part of being magical is being able to know and do things that Muggles (non-magical people) cannot. Have you ever made peculiar things happen when you were feeling a strong emotion, such as anger, fear, or sadness? This happens to magical people such as yourself. In our world, the wizarding world, there is something called the Trace—if a magical person under the age of 17 practices any sort of magic outside of Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic is notified, and this information is kept on file. That is how we know who you are, Liam. You have the Trace. If you intend to attend Hogwarts after reading this letter, please notify us in your reply. To get your necessary school supplies, you will need to go to King’s Cross station on August 1st at 12pm—a large man named Rubeus Hagrid will be taking all muggleborns (such as yourself) and their families to Diagon Alley to shop. Please bring money that you will exchange for wizarding money upon arrival. Please remember to tell the letter to self-destruct when you are finished; that is how we intend to prove to you that magic is real._  


            _We hope to hear from you soon._  


            _Headmistress McGonagall_  


            _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

            Liam frantically scribbles down the information—“King’s Cross Aug 1 12pm” “Rubeus Hagrid”—and then sets the letter down and stares at it.  


            “Um…you can…self-destruct now?” he says hesitantly. Suddenly, the letter floats up off the table, twirls around in the air, and then combusts into a small fireworks display. Liam and his parents stare, jaws dropped in shock at the spectacle they’ve just witnessed.  


            “Well,” his mum says. “Guess there’s no denying it now. Either we’re all whacked out, or this is real. But I guess we’ll just have to wait until August 1st to find out.”  


            “Wait…does that mean you’re gonna let me go?!” Liam exclaims.  


            His mum and dad exchange a loaded glance, and his dad nods. “Yes. We want you to be able to be yourself, and if this is what it takes, we won’t stop you.”  


            Liam can’t even believe this is really happening. Partly because of the whole magic thing, partly because he’s going to be free. On September 1st, he’ll be free.

***  


            Hagrid took an immediate liking to Liam’s family at Diagon Alley, so when the three of them see him on platform 9 ¾ on September 1st, they’re relieved.  


            “A’right!” he calls out to them, waving a large hand at them and clomping over. “Good t’see ya, Mr. Payne, Mrs. Payne,” he says, shaking Liam’s parents’ hands. “And you, little feller, s’good to see you. I’ll be lookin’ out fer ‘im, don’t you two worry. Got lots o’ muggleborns at Hogwarts, he’ll fit right in, no problem. An’ like I said, I’ll keep my eye on ‘im.”  


            Liam’s parents thank Hagrid, and then he steps away so they can say goodbye to their son. They pull him into a group hug.  


            “We’re so proud of you, his mum whispers into his hair. He hears the emotion drowning in her voice. “Remember, please call us whenever you can. We want to know how everything’s going. And we’ll miss our little Li, don’t forget about us at home.”  


            “Oh, Karen,” his dad cuts in. “He’s going off to school, not the war. But your mum’s right, Li, please call us and let us know how you’re feeling, what you’re doing, all about the magic you’ll be learning. You’re going to have an incredible, amazing time.”  


            “And I’ll be Liam,” he says gently.  


            “And you’ll be Liam,” his mum echoes.  


            The scarlet Hogwarts Express’s whistle blows, signaling 10 minutes to departure.  


            “I think that means I need to get on the train,” he says.  


            His parents squeeze him tight and kiss him all over, and then wave him off as he clambers onto the train. He walks down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but sees only large groups of older kids. He finally finds a near empty one, with just a girl sitting by herself who looks about his age. He knocks tentatively, and she looks up from her book, and smiles. He mimes opening the door and she nods, so he comes in.  


            “Hi,” she says. “I’m Sophia.”  


            “I’m Liam,” he replies. It feels so good to be able to introduce himself like that.  


            “This your first year?” Sophia asks.  


            “Yeah. You?”  


            “Yeah.”  


            Liam sits down opposite her. “Is your family, uh, magical?”  


            She nods. “Both my parents went to Hogwarts. M’dad’s a half-blood, though, so I guess that makes me quarter-blood.”  


            “Half-blood?” Liam asks in confusion.  


            “Ah, you’re a muggleborn,” Sophia replies knowingly. Liam’s face immediately pinks. “No, that’s not a bad thing! It’s just that if you weren’t, you’d know what that means. Half-blood just means one of your parents is magical, one of them’s a muggle. Most people are half-bloods or have at least a bit of muggle blood in them. There’s only a few pureblood families left.” She notices the budding question on Liam’s face and explains, “Purebloods are people whose family have never had a kid with a muggle. Just 100% magical people through and through.”  


            “Oh, wow. Um…” he feels embarrassed asking it, but he’s too curious. “What’s it like growing up with magic?”  


            “Um, I dunno, I have nothing to compare it to. What’s it like growing up without magic?” she asks. “I can’t imagine not even knowing about magic—must be difficult to get things done.” She sounds older than her 11 years.  


            “It’s really wild, actually. We were pretty freaked out for a while, when we got the first letter. ‘Cause we’re just…normal people, y’know?”  
Sophia looks away.  


            “I didn’t mean it like that!” Liam exclaims, covering his mouth shamefully. “I just meant, like…muggles. We’re really boring and normal muggles. Me dad works in a factory and me mum works at a shop and I went to school, nothing special. No one has anything to say about us, except—“ Liam stops himself. Not now. He just met her.  


            Sophia cocks her head to the side questioningly. “Except what?”  


            Liam shakes his head violently. “Nevermind.”  


            Sophia looks perplexed, but drops it.  


            The train takes off, and Liam’s heart skips a beat. This is it. This is really it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is left flustered by Harry for lots of reasons. Zayn is already drowning.

**_Five years later_ **

 

            “Are you kidding me?” Louis stares in disbelief. “Since when are _you_ in choir?”

            “Excuse me, Tomlinson—“ Louis did _not_ remember his voice being that deep and husky—“Flitwick asked me to join. I’m here by special request.”

            Louis scoffs. “Alright, Styles, whatever makes you feel better about yourself.” He takes his place with the tenors, and soon realizes that Harry is joining him there. “What’re you doing in my section? You must be a bass with a voice like that.”

            Harry finally makes eye contact with him, which Louis immediately regrets. His eyes look frighteningly bright green, reflecting the gold in his tie.

            “First of all, Louis,” he pauses to place his pointer finger on Louis’ jaw, turning his head to make him keep eye contact, “I think I’ll be the judge of what my vocal range is, thanks. Secondly, this isn’t ‘your’ section, so get off your high horse, alright mate?”

            Louis really wishes he could think of a response, but he’s just noticed how Harry’s jawline has gotten sharper and his hair’s quite a bit longer and he looks oddly angelic with the late afternoon light streaming in behind him. Luckily he doesn’t have to because Flitwick’s made his way onto his desk and called for attention.

            Louis can’t focus—something about adding more difficult pieces to the repertoire, more sectional rehearsals, new members—then his ears perk up.

            “…And for the tenor section, I’ve asked Mr. Harry Styles to join us this year. Everyone please welcome our new members to the choir.” Flitwick’s remarks are followed by obligatory applause, and Louis forcing himself to not turn and look at Harry’s presumably smug face. He’d been a cocky jerk since 3rd year, honestly, and Louis has no idea why Zayn is friends with him. Not as close as Louis is to Zayn, of course, but still. He guesses it was because of the Hufflepuff-Slytherin mixed Potions they had in 4th year—practically the whole damn class fell in love with Harry, even Professor Malfoy. But not Louis. He wasn’t beguiled by Harry’s newly developed charm.

            After running through a few songs from repertoires of years past (songs which Louis could tell Harry was struggling through, which gave him a cruel sort of satisfaction), Flitwick dismissed them.

            “Tomlinson!” Louis’ head whips around to face the source of the high-pitched voice. Professor Flitwick had descended from atop his desk and was beckoning Louis over to him. In the bustle of other students dispersing—running to give Leigh-Anne a quick kiss on the cheek as a promise to catch up later—he hadn’t noticed that Harry was standing right next to Flitwick.

            “What can I do for you, Professor?” Louis asks, actively avoiding looking at Harry, all the while painfully aware of his presence.

            “You’re acquainted with Mr. Styles here, yes?” Flitwick asks, gesturing to Harry, who gives a cheeky smirk.

            “I suppose you could say that,” Louis answers vaguely.

            “Well, as I’m sure you both know, I have the two of you for mixed Charms this year as well, and I thought it might be a good idea to make you all practice partners so as to get better acquainted.”

            Louis looks back and forth between Harry and Flitwick. “I’m terribly sorry Professor, but I think I’m missing something. Why is it necessary for Styles and I to be better acquainted?” He steals a glance at Harry, who’s watching him intently.

            “Good grief, Tomlinson, weren’t you listening? I’ve selected a piece that has a tenor duet and a soprano duet, and had to select two soloists from those sections. It was much more difficult to choose the soprano singers, but I’ve gone with Jade and Perrie—don’t let that slip, I don’t want to cause a whole fuss—and the clear choice for the tenors is you two, and I thought—“

            “I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor, but I’m a bit lost—why are Harold and I the clear choice?” Louis turns to Harry. “No offence to you, but I’ve never heard you sing. How can we know that our voices are compatible, let alone work well enough together to warrant a duet?”

            “Are you declining the offer, Tomlinson?” Flitwick asks, with a bit of flame behind it.

            “No, no, not at all, sir! I appreciate the distinct honor and will gladly participate. I’m just concerned about my compatibility with young Styles. Vocally, of course.”

            “Ah, ah, yes, I understand your trepidation. Might I turn that over to you, Mr. Styles? How do you hope to mitigate Mr. Tomlinson’s concern?”

            “Thank you for asking, Professor,” Harry begins, smirking once again, never breaking eye contact with Louis. “I’ll gladly show him what my skills are, if he’s willing to spare a few minutes of his precious time.” Fire builds in Louis’ chest.

            “Absolutely,” Louis practically spits out. “Take it away.”

            Harry saunters wordlessly over to the piano and sits down at it. He inhales, then places his fingers on the keys and begins to play. After a few measures, he begins to sing—a song Louis’ never heard before. Harry’s voice is much higher than Louis expected, but full and a bit raw at the same time. It swells and billows, then hardens as he reaches the top of his range. It sounds like he’s straining but in a way that Louis feels completely assured that his voice won’t break. It feels like standing on the edge of a balcony, but knowing that the railings are keeping you from falling. Suddenly, Harry is standing up from the piano, and Flitwick is applauding enthusiastically. Both of them look to Louis for his response.

            Louis, however, is not in any position to be saying any words whatsoever. He’s literally speechless.

            “Well?” Harry says, cocking one hip to the side and crossing his arms over his chest.

            “I, um—“ Louis struggles. “Yes, I think that’ll do. What were you saying about being partners in Charms? That sounds fine. I’ve actually just remembered that I’ve got somewhere to be right now! I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you all tomorrow for Transfig—Charms! That’s what it is. See you then.” Louis turns on his heel and powerwalks out of the choir room and immediately heads towards his common room in the dungeons.

            _What the fuck was that?_ Louis berates himself. _I was a blithering idiot for fuck’s sake…_

            “Tommo!” a voice calls from somewhere, dragging Louis away from his self-roasting session. “Lou, slow down!” The clack of low heels on the hard cement floors of the dungeons lets him know immediately that it’s Perrie. She finally catches up to him, hooking her chin over his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Why the rush?”

            Louis covers her hands with his, linking his fingers through hers. “I dunno. Kinda flustered. Had to get away from choir.”

            “I saw Flitwick held you and Harry back, what was that about?” Perrie unhooks herself and goes to hold Louis’ hand, leading the two of them at a normal pace down the hall.

            “Well apparently Flitwick’s selected us to do a duet together,” Louis huffs. “ _And_ recommended we be practice partners in Charms, to help us get ‘better acquainted.’” Louis sighs dramatically. “Why did it have to be Styles, of all people? After Potions least year, I can’t _stand_ him.”

            “Them,” Perrie corrects. “Harry uses they/them.”

            “Oh! Oh. How did you know?” Louis asks, flustered again.

            “I fucking _asked_ , you idiot. That’s generally the best way to get answers to questions.”

            “But how did you know to ask? Like, we’ve known them for years, how did you suddenly know to ask?”

            “I’m friends with Niall, heard Niall use they/them for Harry, and then asked Harry directly. They said I could correct people if I feel comfortable, which I do, so I did.”

            “Oh. Alright.”

            “Why do you suddenly sound sad?” Perrie asks, rubbing Louis’ thumb with hers.

            “I dunno. I was just rude to them for no reason, really. And I made a comment about their voice being too deep to be a tenor; that could’ve made them feel dysphoric.” Louis knows that feeling all too well. “They got kind of defensive and said something to me about it, so I’m worried it struck a nerve.”

            “Well, don’t beat yourself up about it, but maybe apologize at dinner, yeah?”

            Louis nods. The two walk in silence for a moment, Perrie nibbling on Louis’ earlobe, when he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing in the dungeons?”

            “Are you forgetting that my two queerplatonic partners are Slytherins? I was coming down to see you and Zaynie before my study date with Jade.” Perrie immediately pinks and Louis can feel her palm get damp.

            “A ‘study date?’ Really, Pez? On the second day of the term? That’s bullshit and you know it. Who arranged it?”

            “She did,” Perrie gushes, smiling into Louis’ shoulder.

            “Jesus Christ, it’s about fucking time. You two have been dancing around each other for the past four years when there has so obviously been so much tension.”

            “And that’s your way of saying you’re happy for me, I suppose?” Perrie playfully socks Louis’ in the stomach, to which he replies with an elbow to the chest.

            “Of course, Pez. I’m thrilled. It’s going to go great. Just be your usual wonderful self. Oh—that reminds me. Remember how I said Harry and I are doing a tenor duet? Flitwick also mentioned that there’s a soprano duet, and he chose you and Jade. So you too will be spending lots of time together.”

            Perrie yanks Louis’ arm back and stops mid-stride, planting herself and staring dead at him. “Louis, you better not be shitting me right now. Because if you are, I’m kicking you out of the QPR. I’ll make Zayn sign a contract.” It only makes sense that the three most dramatic people in all of Hogwarts are in a relationship.

            “I’m not kidding, Perrie. Flitwick told us not to say anything because he didn’t want to cause a fuss. He said it was a very difficult decision but he went with you two.”

            “Why didn’t he tell us but he told you?” Perrie pouts.

            “I think he wanted Harry and I to get ‘acquainted,’ or whatever his goal is. He’ll probably tell you tomorrow.”

            “Alright…” Perrie lets up on her grip and allows Louis to keep leading them towards the Slytherin common room. “God, I’m so nervous now. That’s so much pressure! What if we start dating and then we break up before we have to perform and then it ruins the whole duet?” She’s close to hyperventilating.

            “Pez. Darling. Relax. You haven’t even gone on your first date yet, you aren’t engaged. And if I know anything about Jade, it’s—actually, it’s two things. That she’s really fucking gay, and that I’ve never seen her keep her eyes off you if you’re in a room together. Not once.” Perrie blushes deeply. “It’s almost magnetic. A bit creepy, actually. Maybe you should stay away from her,” Louis giggles.

            Perrie swats at his arm. “Fuck off!”

            The two reach the dorm and walk inside hand-in-hand. The first thing they see is Zayn sprawled out on the floor, pants rolled up, shirt off, hair in a bun, surrounded by papers in what appears to be a different language.

            “Zee, what the fuck are you doing?” Louis asks by way of greeting.

            Zayn looks up blankly, a strand of dark hair drifting loose from his bun and falling across his face. As soon as he registers who’s there, his face softens and he crawls towards them, slowly reaching full height. “Thank god you two are here. I have no idea how many hours I’ve been here. I’ve been working since the second I got out of class.” He pulls them into a group hug, nuzzling in between Louis and Perrie’s shoulders. Perrie immediately sets to work stroking his hair, and Louis hooks an arm around his waist, rubbing circles into his warm back.

            “Why the hell are you already holed up in the common room doing work? Term’s barely even started. Plus, it’s gorgeous outside. I was just going to suggest to Pez that we go sit by the lake before dinner. It’s still technically summer for another 20 or so days, y’know,” Louis says.

            “Consider this, Lou: neither of you are taking Advanced Runes. I have to read and write in another language with a different alphabet, and on top of doing that with English and Urdu, all of my alphabets are getting scrambled. And it’s only the second day. Should I just drop out?”

            This happens to Zayn at the start of every year. Even at age 11, Zayn was stressed about schoolwork.

            “Let’s take a break, yeah? Fresh air and sunshine might clear your brain a bit, love,” Perrie chimes in.

            Zayn sighs deeply, relaxing into his partners’ arms. “I love you two.”

            “You’re in luck, Zee, ‘cause we love you too,” Louis replies, kissing Zayn all along his neck, starting at the base where it meets his shoulder and ending right behind his ear, finishing with a delicate bite of Zayn’s earlobe.

            “So much, Zaynie,” Perrie adds.

            Zayn kisses each of them on the lips and then squeezes them tightly. “Alright, I’ll go, if I can just find my shirt…” he says, looking around the common room aimlessly.

            “Honestly, Zayn? I don’t think anyone would mind if you went out shirtless. I think they might actually appreciate it,” Louis comments, followed by giggles from Perrie.

            “Fuck off, Tommo,” Zayn says, though smiling. “I’m not going out shirtless, that would be arrogant and self-absorbed and way too typical of me. I need to become a bit more—what did mum say? Well, Dad said ‘reserved’ and ‘respectable,’ mum said ‘less of a self-obsessed punk’—so let’s go with reserved and respectable.”

            Louis groans. “No offence to your mum, Zee, but she needs to calm the fuck down. You’re not even sixteen yet and she’s already trying to control your ‘image,’ or whatever?”

            Zayn finds his shirt shoved under the couch. He shakes it out and pulls it over his head while saying, “I know, Louis. But it’s a pureblood thing. She thinks I dress too much like a muggle and act too much like a muggle, all that shit. Basically, she’s a bigoted jerk and I can’t stand her.” He wipes off the dust the shirt gathered from being under the couch for several hours. “But she’s right about the shirts.”

            Perrie’s already stacking Zayn’s papers and placing them as neatly as possible in his bag. “Ready, loves?” she asks, extending both her hands. Louis takes one and Zayn the other, and the three head off to the lake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis apologizes to Harry and it doesn't go the way either of them expected.

            Louis is reluctant to talk to Harry at dinner, so he asks Zayn to come and sit with him at the Hufflepuff table. Zayn has been good friends with Niall, Harry’s best friend, since 4th year Potions. They balance each other out nicely, Zayn’s hyperbolic nature with Niall’s comparatively carefree one. The pair stroll up to the table, hand in hand, Zayn squeezing Louis’ reassuringly.

            Niall and Harry are sitting next to each other, so Zayn stands behind them, places a hand on Niall’s shoulder, and says, “Mind if Lou and I join you all?”

            Niall and Harry both turn around, and while Niall’s face lights up, Harry’s falls.

            “Zayn! How the hell are ya?” Niall stands up, pulling Zayn into a hug. Louis takes the opportunity, and now open space, to slide his slight frame next to Harry on the bench.

            He clears his throat. Harry doesn’t look up. Louis braces himself and tries again. “Hey, Harry. Um, hi.”

            Harry places their fork down and turns to face Louis. “Yes, Tomlinson, how can I help you?” Their voice is dripping with contempt.

            Louis tries to keep their gaze, but has to look away. It’s too intense. “I just wanted to, um, apologize about earlier.”

            “Whatever could you mean?” Harry asks sarcastically. Louis goes red. He thought this would be easier. Where’s all his confidence when he actually needs it?

            “Well, I was a right arse for no reason, but I also realized later that I may have made you dysphoric by making that comment about your voice.”

            Harry’s face softens considerably. “Oh, um—“

            “Perrie told me. Like, about your pronouns. And I just know for me, like—“ Louis stops. Does he really need to do this, right now? He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he does. He steels himself and continues. “—on my days where I’m feeling more…femme, I feel all kinds of dysphoria, and the last thing I’d want is for someone to make a comment about one of those things.” Louis gulps.

            “You, um…are you…?” Harry doesn’t quite know how to phrase the question.

            “I’m bigender, yeah.” Louis looks away. He doesn’t usually tell people he’s not close friends with, but for some reason he feels like he _needs_ to tell Harry.

            “Oh. Oh, cool,” Harry smiles crookedly. “What pronouns…?” They’re having trouble constructing sentences at the moment. They’ve just noticed how Louis kind of glows, a little bit? It’s not from the candles suspended in the Great Hall—it’s definitely coming from within Louis. Just this sort of deep, pulsating radiance. It’s mesmerizing and distracting.

            “Mostly he/him. There are days when those don’t feel right at all, but I haven’t found ones that _do_ feel right. So for now, just he/him.” Louis is genuinely surprised at how much he’s telling them. The only people who really know this stuff are Zayn and Pez—he figures other people wouldn’t understand. “Thanks for, um, listening. And by the way, I think you have a great voice, and I’m excited to work with you.”

            Now it’s Harry’s turn to blush. “Anytime, Louis. And thank you, a lot, I’m really excited to work with you, too. I’ve never heard your voice before but I’m sure it’s lovely and that we’ll be great together.” Harry pauses. “Like, singing-wise. And in Charms. Are you any good at Charms?” Oddly enough, the heat is only building in their face, not subsiding. This is rare. This doesn’t happen. Not to Harry.

            “I’m decent, I suppose. You?”

            “Pretty good, I think. My sister was a Ravenclaw, so I think Flitwick took a liking to me when I got here because he was her Head of House. Think he was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t in his house, but…I’m rambling. I should stop.” Harry laughs nervously. What the fuck is happening?

            “You’re fine,” Louis smiles. “My mum was a Ravenclaw too, so I think that’s partly why he even tolerates me.”

            Harry lets out a slightly-too-boisterous laugh at that, and tries to calm themself down. They’re an absolute mess right now.

            “Lou?” Zayn says, resting his hand at the nape of Louis’ neck. “You want to stay here or go back to our table?”

            Louis steals a glance at Harry, who has suddenly busied themself by closely examining their fork. “Up to you,” he responds tersely, trying to communicate to Zayn with his eyes and overly expressive face.

            Zayn squints at him, trying to decipher whatever he’s trying to convey, and then says, “Pez isn’t even sitting with us tonight, she’s off with Jade, isn’t she? Let’s stay here, shall we, love?”

            “Sounds fine,” Louis responds. His heart is fluttering all over the place. He hates this.

            Zayn sits down next to him, with Niall on Zayn’s other side. Zayn mindlessly slings his arm around Louis’ shoulder, while totally turned to face Niall. Louis is left with Harry, and Zayn’s forearm.

            “So, um,” Harry starts, “What house was your dad in?”

            “He’s a muggle, actually. And my other mum went to Beauxbatons, so.”

            “Oh! Cool. Cool.” Harry tries not to sound surprised. They had no idea Louis had two mums. “My dad’s a muggle too, but my stepdad was a Gryffindor.”

            “Cool.” Louis wishes he had something interesting to say, but of course his mind is painfully blank. “Do you have any siblings?”

            Harry chuckles softly. “Yeah, my sister.”

            “Right, you fucking said that already, sorry…”

            “It’s fine. You?”   
            “Hm?” Louis is still beating himself up for being such an idiot.

            “Any siblings?”

            “Oh. Lots, yeah. I’m the oldest, but then there’s Lottie, Fizzy, and then the first set of twins, Phoebe and Daisy, and then the second set, Ernest and Doris.”

            “Wow. That’s…two sets of twins? What are the odds of that?” Harry asks, hoping they don’t sound rude.

            “Yeah, I dunno. They’ve all got a different dad. My mums’ friend Charlie never wanted kids of his own, but since my mums can’t get pregnant together, he offered to be like, a sperm donor, or whatever. Sorry, this is probably not dinner conversation…” Louis trails off.

            “It’s fine, it’s fine, I asked,” Harry assures him.

            “Well, you didn’t really, I just kind of started talking,” Louis says.

            “It’s fine. I like when you talk.” It’s out of Harry’s mouth before they can even think about it. It jumped right past the on-deck circle straight to _batter up!_ and Harry definitely wishes they were six feet under right about now.

            Both Louis and Harry blush deeply and in silence. Louis instinctively squeezes Zayn’s thigh under the table. That’s their universal symbol for _oh my god,_ in any context. Zayn lazily turns his head to face Louis, smiles, and kisses Louis on the cheek. When he does so, however, he sees the watch on the wrist that’s still flung around Louis’ shoulder, and his eyes go wide.

            “Shit, Louis, I have to go back to my work. Fucking hell, I have so much Runes to do. I’m going to jump off the astronomy tower, I swear to god—”

            “Zee, darling, deep breaths. We’ll go back to the dorm, alright?” Louis and Zayn both stand up. For some reason, Harry’s heart falls a little.

            “I’ll um, see you around, Harry,” Louis says, waving. Even though he’s standing right fucking there. Why is he waving. What the fuck.

            “Yeah, Charms tomorrow. See you,” Harry replies.

            “Great seein’ ya, mate,” Niall says to Zayn. “You too, Louis.”

            Louis smiles in response.

            “Louis,” Zayn whispers urgently. “Runes.”

            “Alright, babe, we’re going, okay? G’night,” Louis says, waving again as he and Zayn walk away, arms around each other’s waists. Why did he wave, _again._ God.

            When the two of them have cleared the Great Hall and are on their way back to the dungeons, Zayn asks, “So, how’d it go?”

            Louis swallows thickly. “I feel like actual death right now and I don’t fucking know why.”

            Zayn cringes. “Oo, that bad? I’m sorry babe.”

            “No, it actually wasn’t bad at all? I’d actually say it was pretty good? I think that’s why I feel like death—I was so set up to continue to despise them _and_ feel guilty about it and then…I dunno, we actually clicked within like, a minute of talking. Like, Zee, I told them that I’m bigender.”

            Zayn looks at Louis with surprise.

            “I _know_ ,” Louis continues. “And like, I dunno… we were both acting kind of awkward and flustered, kind of like we were trying to impress each other?”

            “Well, _were_ you trying to impress them?” Zayn presses.

            “I mean…kind of? And I don’t know why! Like, all of the sudden, I felt like I needed Harry to like me or I would die. Like, genuinely.”

            A smirk is growing on Zayn’s face. “So, do you like them?”

            Louis turns to look at Zayn and sees the expression on his face. He doesn’t want it to happen, but suddenly he feels himself turning bright pink. There’s definitely got to be a spell to make that not happen, and he needs to learn it immediately. “What the fuck does that mean?”

            “Oh, you know exactly what that means. Don’t play clueless.”

            “Alright, Malik. First of all, go fuck yourself. Second of all, shut the fuck up.”

            “A compelling argument, Tomlinson, truly, but I must say I’m going to take that as a ‘yes.’”

            “How could I like them?!” Louis bursts out, startling a portrait on the wall. “We spoke once, for maybe ten minutes, after I spent the past two years hating them. Tell me how that could possibly work.” He’s half trying to convince himself.

            “Love works in mysterious ways,” Zayn says cryptically.

            “That’s it, we’re over. I’m taking Pez and we’re kicking you out.”

            Zayn chuckles. “I love how that’s both of your responses to anything—kick Zayn out of the QPP. Fortunately for me, you both love me way too much to ever agree to the other one getting rid of me.” He plants a kiss on Louis’ cheek, then another one closer to his mouth, then another one at the corner of his lips, then another one on his mouth.

***

            “Nelly,” Harry whines from their supine position on their bed.

            “Yeah,” Niall responds distractedly.

            “I feel sick.”

            “Like how?”

            “Like, my heart won’t calm down and my stomach feels like it’s in knots and I can’t breathe right. Am I dying?”

            “Sounds like anxiety to me,” Niall says.

            “Why would I be anxious? It’s two days into the term.” Another pang hits Harry right in the chest, causing them to miss a breath.

            “Well, what else did you do today besides school?”

            Harry thinks back. “Well, after classes I took a walk and then laid outside until dinner, and then—“ Louis. That’s what happened at dinner. Louis happened at dinner.

            “Yes?” Niall prompts.

            “And then I talked to Louis at dinner,” Harry replies, their stomach sinking impossibly further.

            “I thought you said it went fine,” Niall says.

            “It did, it was good. Much better than I expected any sort of interaction with him to be. I dunno, I just—“ Harry pauses to find the words. “I was feeling like, a smaller version of this whole mess the entire time and I couldn’t focus and just felt really on edge. But I also didn’t want it to stop.”

            Niall’s eyes widen for a moment, but Harry doesn’t see because they’re looking up at the ceiling. “That’s, uh, I’m sorry, Haz. I dunno what that’s about.” Niall clears his throat unnecessarily.

            “Be honest with me Niall: am I dying? Does someone survive this kind of torture?”

            Niall cackles. “You fucking dramatic little shit. You’ll be fine. Just find a distraction and it’ll go away.”

            A distraction. Okay. Fine. Something that doesn’t have golden skin and blue eyes and fluffy brown hair. Something else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn's on the verge of falling completely apart.

            Mixed Charms is Louis and Harry’s first class, right after breakfast. They don’t sit together; Louis sits with some Slytherins and Harry with some Hufflepuffs. However, Flitwick soon pairs off everyone, meaning the two end up sitting next to each other within fifteen minutes of class starting. Neither one of them got much sleep last night, and shuffled towards each other like zombies.

            “Morning,” Harry says, plopping down in their seat.

            “Hey,” Louis replies, dropping his bag next to his chair.

            Harry tries to stifle a yawn and ends up looking like a baby lion, Louis notices, and then immediately wishes he _hadn’t_ noticed that.

            “Tired?” Louis asks.

            Harry nods. “Didn’t sleep much.”

            “Same.”

            Flitwick then begins talking, and has them do some warm-up charms to get them back into it. It turns out that Harry is a lot more than decent at charms—it seems to come extremely naturally to them. Louis gets distracted more than once, just watching Harry effortlessly levitate objects and open locks.

            When class ends, they both mumble their goodbyes and go their separate ways. Zayn immediately catches up with Louis as the two of them exit the classroom.

            “So?” Zayn asks cheekily.

            “What, Malik,” Louis responds tersely.

            “Lighten up, Lou, I’m only kidding.”

            “Well, stop kidding, because it’s pissing me off.” Louis sounds proper angry.

            Zayn gets the message. “Alright, I’ll drop it. Sorry.”

***

            Louis’ situation doesn’t improve much over the next few weeks. Charms and choir with Harry three times a week each is overwhelming, but also oddly comforting. He avoids thinking about it at all costs. Besides, he’s spending most of his time making sure Zayn doesn’t pitch himself into the lake or offer himself up to the creatures of the Forbidden Forest. Quidditch training started at the end of their first week, and as Slytherin Seeker, Zayn is under a lot of pressure. And of course, their first match is against Gryffindor.

            The day of the match, Zayn is nervous as hell. His mum’s been hounding him about how he should’ve taken Arithmancy as well and how that would affect his career choices in the future. Louis wants to strangle her, honestly, because if she can’t see how hard Zayn is working as it is, she must be willfully ignoring it. He’s busting his ass, barely sleeping, barely eating—Louis and Perrie have to physically drag him to almost every meal.

            Louis is fixing Zayn a plate at breakfast while Zayn rests his head over his folded arms on the table. His eyes are burning from lack of sleep and he does not feel strong enough to be flying at top speeds and he doesn’t feel alert enough to be looking for the Snitch. But there’s no back-up Seeker. He needs to do this. Louis rubs his back to let him know his plate’s ready. Zayn immediately chugs the coffee placed in front of him and starts picking at his food. Louis and Perrie look on worriedly, exchanging knowing glances.

            Just then, Harry walks by and catches Louis’ eye. They smile timidly at one another.

            “Going to the game?” Harry asks, slowing down and stopping across the table from Louis.

            Louis nods. “Zee’s Slytherin Seeker, so Pez and I are going to support him. And our house, of course.”

            “Excuse me,” Perrie squeaks in protest. “When will you stop forgetting that I’m a Ravenclaw? Just you wait until there’s a Slytherin-Ravenclaw match, see what colors I’m wearing then. But of course I’m going to support Zaynie today,” she adds quickly, when a Slytherin sitting nearby glares at her.

            Harry doesn’t really know how to respond. “Cool. Good luck, Zayn,” they say.  

            Zayn looks up at the sound of Harry addressing him. “Huh? Oh, hi Harry.” He turns his eyes back to his plate of food.

            Harry looks at Louis with concern in their eyes. They mouth to him, “Is he okay?”

            Louis does the “kind of” hand gesture of tilting his hand back and forth.

            Harry just nods. “I’ll, um, see you at the game then.”

            “Suppose you’re supporting Gryffindor?” Louis asks, with no malice behind it.

            Harry shrugs. “Don’t really care, to be honest. I’m mostly going because Niall’s going, and I don’t feel like being the only person in the whole school who’s not there. I’ll be happy with whoever wins.”

            “But especially if it’s Slytherin,” Louis jokes, winking at Harry, who smiles in response.

            “Of course, of course. Well, I’ll catch you later.” They walk off towards the Hufflepuff table.

            Forty-five minutes later, Louis and Perrie are sitting up in the stands as the teams walk out onto the pitch. Zayn even looks like a zombie from far away.

            Down on the pitch, Zayn shuffles towards the center of the field with his team, broom hitched over his shoulder.

            Within minutes, both teams are up in the air, and Zayn begins to circle the pitch. He starts at Slytherin’s goalposts and makes his way towards Gryffindor’s. As soon as he gets there, though, he really, really wishes he hadn’t done that. Because Gryffindor has a new Keeper that he didn’t see before. And they’re honestly the hottest person Zayn’s ever seen. He actually stops short and drops a few feet on his broom. Zayn shakes his head. Not now. This is not the fucking time. He looks around absently for the Snitch, then continues his circle.

 _Who the hell is that?_ Zayn’s wracking his brain to try to figure out who the fit Keeper is. He’s never seen them before. Realistically, he must’ve—there’s no way they’re a first or even second year. They look about his age. But he would’ve remembered a face—and a body—like that. They have short brown hair and a strong jaw, and even through their Quidditch robes, Zayn can tell that they’re muscular and lean.

            “Zayn!” he hears someone shout. At that he whips around, accidentally shifting his entire broom several feet in the direction he turned his head. He simultaneously hears a loud whooshing noise zoom past his head, and realizes he just narrowly missed being attacked by a Bludger. His friend Danny, one of the team’s Beaters, was the one shouting at him, but he’s off now, chasing the Bludger.

            The near miss with the Bludger gets Zayn’s adrenalin up. He’s back to circling the pitch. But then out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Gryffindor Keeper make an amazing block. They did some sort of tuck-and-roll thing, whacking the Quaffle away from the goal with the end of their broom after rolling upright. The crowd goes wild, and Zayn catches himself before he accidentally cheers for the wrong team. He must admit, though, that was impressive.

            Zayn spends the entire match flipping from being distracted by the Gryffindor Keeper to trying to focus on his job. After half an hour, he still hasn’t seen the Snitch once. To be fair, he isn’t looking very hard. His mind is in every place except the game. Fifteen minutes later, the Gryffindor Seeker, some third year who’s name Zayn doesn’t remember, has caught it, and the game’s over.

            As soon as Zayn lands back down on the pitch, his team’s all over him.

            “What the hell was that?” some kid named Oli, one of the Chasers, asks. Zayn’s always fucking hated him, so he snaps at him harshly.

            “Fuck off,” Zayn bites, powerwalking back to the locker rooms.

            “Zayn!” Danny calls after him, but Zayn ignores him. He reaches the locker room long before everyone else, strips his robes off immediately, tosses them in his locker, stores his broom, and is out before anyone else from his team walks in. They’re going to be really fucking pissed at him for bolting off without debriefing, but he can’t deal with them right now.

            He's so focused on getting away from the pitch that he almost doesn’t notice Louis, Perrie, and Harry all standing outside waiting for him.

            “Great job, Zayn,” Harry says in a way that, to Zayn, seems forced.

            “Thanks, Harry, but don’t bother. I know I was shit.”

            Harry’s face falls and they look away. Louis notices and jumps in immediately.

            “Not shit at all, babe. You’re just exhausted. It’s okay. You did your best.” He immediately envelops Zayn in his slightly larger arms.

            “I didn’t, but okay,” Zayn mutters. Perrie is hugging him from behind, pressing lip-glossed kisses to the exposed skin of his neck.

            “Don’t beat yourself up about it, love,” she adds, squeezing him a little tighter. “Please give yourself a break, you’re working _so_ hard.”

            “And don’t forget, we love you so much,” Louis adds.

            “So much,” Perrie echoes.

            Zayn just sighs. “I love you too,” he replies. He can feel the heat of tears burning behind his eyes, but he can’t do this. Not right now. Not in front of Harry, not outside. Not ever, ideally, but sometimes he can’t stop it. He really, really hopes this isn’t one of those times. Louis and Perrie both feel Zayn tensing up, and dote on him further to overcompensate.

            “I should, um, go,” Harry says, starting to walk backwards back towards the castle.

            “Oh, um, sorry Harry,” Louis says, looking up apologetically.

            “It’s fine,” they say sincerely. “I’ll catch you all later. Feel better Zayn,” they add, walking away.

            “Thanks,” Zayn grunts out.

            “Wanna head back to the castle? We can go to my dorm so you don’t have to see anyone from the team,” Perrie suggests.

            Zayn shakes his head. “Can we go somewhere else? Like…down towards Hagrid’s. Not _to_ Hagrid’s, but just down towards the Forest and stuff. I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

            “Of course, love, anything you want,” Louis says softly, rubbing a thumb over Zayn’s forehead to smooth out the wrinkle forming there. He wraps his arm around Zayn’s waist and Perrie does the same from the other side, both their arms crossing behind Zayn’s back. They start leading him away from the castle, away from the pitch, away from everyone else.


End file.
